


The Test

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather prophetic story, considering the Duncan we saw in fifth season.</p><p>There was a challenge in Methos' voice as it drifted over Duncan MacLeod's head. The Highlander wondered just how he had gotten himself into this situation. Methos' presence was against his back, almost stifling, and he felt a bead of sweat roll off his forehead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Test

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 1997 under my real name.

"What's the matter, MacLeod? Don't you _trust_ me?"

There was a challenge in Methos' voice as it drifted over Duncan MacLeod's head. The Highlander wondered just _how_ he had gotten himself into this situation. Methos' presence was against his back, almost stifling, and he felt a bead of sweat roll off his forehead. He clenched his jaw, forcing out the words, "Of course I do, Methos. It's just..."

Strong, slender fingers starting running lightly through his wet hair and he stiffened, ready for anything. He felt Methos' breath along his ear, his low voice whispering, "Are you sure you trust me?"

The sound of metal on metal was right near his ear, and MacLeod started. He gulped, feeling a nervous twitch in his stomach. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all..." He started to get out of the chair, but Methos' hand clamped down on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

"Oh, no you don't, Highlander. You said you trusted me. Was that just talk?" Methos taunted, circling around in front of MacLeod. Methos' eyes leveled through Duncan's, hard as the steel he held loosely in his right hand.

Duncan's eyes flicked to the blade, then back up into Methos' face. Expression carved in untelling stone, a blanket of distrust clouded his eyes. He locked gazes with Methos, then his voice rang out clear and sure, "Do your worst."

A feral grin curved Methos' lip. He stood silently for a bit, studying the man before him. Then Methos slowly circled the chair, moving behind Duncan, trailing the steel lightly along his shoulders. MacLeod shivered with anticipation. He felt Methos threading his fingers through his hair, separating the strands. Then the oldest Immortal leaned down, directly behind MacLeod's right ear and murmured, "Are you ready for me?"

MacLeod closed his eyes, willing his heart to stop pounding in his ears. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely, licking his dry lips.

Straightening, Methos took one last, appraising look at MacLeod's head before he raised the blade ...

Almost two hours later ...

Methos emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. He eyed the mess on the floor and sighed; he supposed he would have to clean it up. Grabbing a broom, he started cleaning the floor. As he dumped the last into the trash can, strong hands turned him around.

Startled, the broom clattered to the floor. Methos stared into the enraged eyes before him, his own going wide. "What! You said to...you said you trusted me..." his protests abruptly stopped as he noticed the twinkle replacing the anger in the brown eyes. "You...you..." Methos spluttered as the hands released him.

A bright smile crossed the strong features of Duncan MacLeod as he started to laugh. "Ah, Methos, this looks great! I just wanted to thank you." He reached up and touched the back of his head, still a bit awed that his ponytail now resided in his trash can.

Methos grinned, a twinkle in his eye. "I told you you'd like it. You do like it, don't you?" he questioned anxiously.

"Yes, I like it," he assured the five thousand year old man. "Now, let's say we celebrate. Drinks on me at _Joe's_?"

Methos grinned wickedly. "Sounds good, especially if you're buying," he mumbled as he passed MacLeod, heading for the stairs.

Duncan started to follow him, then froze. "Wait a minute. I'm not buying you drinks - Methos. Methos!" he bellowed, slamming the carriage shut and punching the down button. He _refused_ to supply that man beer all night ...

ze end


End file.
